September 5, 2000

Unbowed, if Soggy, Parade Goes On

By JENNIFER STEINHAUER

s they have for years on Labor Day, tens of thousands of New Yorkers, and the politicians who court
them, descended on Brooklyn yesterday to watch or take part in the West
Indian American Carnival Parade in
Crown Heights, with the city's largest street spectacle dampened only
by a sudden downpour that brought a
brief halt to the festivities.

As in other years, people ate curried goat and rice balls. They danced
along the sidewalks to Caribbean
music blaring from all corners. They
wore bright yellow feathers, straw
hats and T-shirts purchased streetside that said things like, "Not only
am I perfect, I'm Vincentian too!"
They wore primary-colored costumes native to Caribbean islands
and rode on floats festooned with
bamboo, crepe paper and silver
paint.

But unlike in other years, what
they did not do was drink alcohol at
the event, at least not legally. The
Giuliani administration banned alcohol from the festival and other large
parades this year, drawing protests
from organizers who argued that the
ban would hobble those participants
whose costumes and floats were supported by alcohol companies.

Organizers and participants were
further annoyed that the city has
said it will permit some alcohol at
other street events, like the Feast of
San Gennaro, an 11-day festival in
Little Italy that starts later this
month. Liquor will be sold at the
festival by a reduced number of vendors.

But the ban, however resented, did
not seem to dampen the spirits of
participants or those who came to
watch them; few people who were
interviewed seemed, in fact, to much
care.

"It doesn't make any difference to
me," said Eloise Leslie, 73, who lives
on Eastern Parkway. "People come
out here to relieve themselves of
depression and anxiety they feel all
year long. They don't need alcohol
for that, just the music and their own
spirits."

Others saw a silver lining. "To be
out here without having people
throwing beer cans at you is kind of
nice as far as I'm concerned," said
Errol Hassell, a mechanic from the
Bronx.

Indeed, the parade was generally
free of trouble, although by 6 p.m.,
when it formally ended, five people
had been arrested. These included a
woman charged with biting a Secret
Service agent protecting Hillary
Rodham Clinton, and two men
charged with sexual abuse.

While beer might have been
banned, there were plenty of other
things on offer along the route: whistles, homemade carrot cakes, hats,
codfish fritters, Barbie dolls, Jesus
and socialism. And plenty of corporations showed their colors: Citibank
and Chase Manhattan had floats, as
did Western Union, which, according
to its sign, "Does More for the Caribbean Community than Simply Sending Money."

Brooklyn's West Indian parade
draws an estimated two million people, compared with the roughy million or so who come out for the
Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade in
Manhattan.

As such, it proves a fine spot for
politicians to make their rounds. This
year, Mrs. Clinton was in attendance; her rival for a Senate seat
from New York, Rick A. Lazio, spent
his day upstate. The city's public
advocate, Mark Green, shook hands,
and many of his own body parts, as
he made his way through Brooklyn to
the sound of banging drums. Una
Clarke, who is seeking to unseat her
onetime mentor, Representative Major R. Owens, appeared energized to
the end of the parade, where she
continued to yell out, "We need some
resources in this community!"

When the city announced the alcohol ban and other new rules for large
parades last month, officials said
they were in part a response to accidents that killed three people who
attended last year's parade. Two 11-year-old dancers were killed, and
another child was hurt, when they
were struck by a van, and an 18-year-old man was killed by a sound truck.
Parade organizers protested that alcohol use was not implicated in any
of the accidents.

Despite the ill feeling caused by
his administration's decision, Mayor
Rudolph W. Giuliani did not shy
away from marching yesterday.

The mayor was greeted with a
cascade of catcalls and boos as he
made his way down Eastern Parkway. "What are you doing here? We
don't need you here," yelled Hugh
Gardner, a 37-year-old Flatbush resident, as the mayor walked by his
spot along the parkway. "You're a
bum."

The mayor seemed undaunted,
smiling as he made his way along
with police escorts, occasionally venturing toward the crowd to shake
hands. There were a few voices of
dissent. One woman, who declined to
give her name, said that even though
she did not support the mayor, "It
was the right thing for him to be
here."

By parade's end, the authorities
said, 21 bottle of alcoholic beverages
and 20 cases of beer had been confiscated, and 35 open-container summonses issued.

The woman accused of biting a
Secret Service agent in the arm was
identified by the police as Yolande
Bobb, 55, of Brooklyn, who was
charged with second-degree assault.
The incident occurred as Ms. Bobb
was approaching Mrs. Clinton and
the agent interceded, the authorities
said.

Claudis Jacob, 40, of Brooklyn, was
charged with abusing a 13-year-old
girl and held on sexual abuse
charges. Cecil Wayland of Brooklyn,
40, was also charged with sexual
abuse, accused of abusing a 24-year-old woman.

In mid-afternoon, the festivities
were interrupted by a heavy downpour. For about 20 minutes, vendors
took refuge under their tables and
bright colored feathers were soaked
as the fierce rain storm made its
way through Brooklyn. Rain drops
fell heavily into pans of food and
corner bodegas filled with people
from the crowd. But as soon as the
sun came out, the crush of humans
appeared to grow thicker than ever.

"I have really enjoyed this parade," said Stanley Davis, a 45-year-old onlooker who cleans streets during his regular life. "It is alcohol-free
but still fun to me."